“Twenty-two! Twenty-two!” cried the
red-faced man, adding up the jurors with the end of
a pen, and ostentatiously omitting Mr. Clarkson.

The jurors shook with laughter. They wiped tears
from their eyes. They rolled their heads on the
pink blotting-paper in their joy. When quiet
was restored, the foreman proceeded:

“I have already ruled that gentleman out of
order, and I warn him that if he perseveres in his
contumacious disregard of common decency and the chair,
I shall proceed to extremities as the law directs.
We are here, gentlemen, to fulfil a public duty as
honourable British citizens, and here we will remain
until that duty is fulfilled, or we will know the
reason why.”

He glanced defiantly round, assuming an aspect worthy
of the last stand at Maiwand. Looking at Mr.
Clarkson as turkeys might look at a stray canary,
the jurors expressed their applause.

But the genial usher took pity, and whispered across
the table to him, “It’ll all come right,
sir; it’ll all come right. You wait a bit.
The Grand Jury always rejects one case before it’s
done; sometimes two.”

And sure enough, next morning, while Mr. Clarkson
was reading Burke’s speeches which he had brought
with him, one of the jurors objected to the evidence
in the eighty-seventh case. “We cannot be
too cautious, gentlemen,” he said, “in
arriving at a decision in these delicate matters.
The apprehension of blackmail in relation to females
hangs over every living man in this country.”

“Delicate matters; blackmail; relation to females;
great apprehension of blackmail in these delicate
matters,” murmured the jury, shaking their heads,
and they threw out the Bill with the consciousness
of an independent and righteous deed.

Soon after midday, the last of the cases was finished,
and having signified a True Bill for nearly the hundredth
time, the jurors were conducted into the Court where
a prisoner was standing in the dock for his real trial.
As though they had saved a tottering State, the Judge
thanked them graciously for their services, and they
were discharged.

“Just a drop of something to show there’s
no ill-feeling?” said the red-faced man as they
passed into the street.

“Thank you very much,” replied Mr. Clarkson
warmly. “I assure you I have not the slightest
ill-feeling of any kind. But I seldom drink.”